The Joker's Monologue
by TheOtherMaddHatter
Summary: How the Joker got his scars...


**I don't own anything, believe me when I say that I would like to, however I do not. They in fact belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Studios, Christopher Nolan, Cillian Murphy, Christian Bale, and the late Heath Ledger. All elements of Gotham City are based off of Chicago, IL and are designed around blue prints and street maps I have of that area. Other elements are named for their original comic counterparts, as the back stories and basic personality traits are also based off of the comic counterparts. Read, enjoy, and review! Thank you!**

**

* * *

  
**

Want to know how I got these scars?

That line.

That one line…

I'll never be able to forget it for as long as I live, no matter what. It haunts my memory, swirls into my nightmares, and permanently stains my subconscious, even to this day. But it doesn't stop there…oh no, it seeps further into my brain. Further into a time where my life wasn't quite what it is now, back when I was slightly happy and working at a run-down little McDonald's in the Narrows district with a mysterious college graduate who had an odd sense of humor and a relaxed grip on sanity. Back when I knew him for the man before the scars…before the Narrows ruined him.

That's where I used to live, you know, before my home got burnt down during Fear Night almost a year and a half ago. It this dingy little run down building that I could barely afford, but was just managing with the three jobs that I had been juggling. It was a bummer. But that isn't what I'm talking about now, no; I've got something more important to say.

I'm talking about the fact that _I know_ how the Joker got his scars, _I know_ who the Joker is, and I'll _never tell anyone_…

He might kill me.

He would kill me.

He still might.

Let me explain to you what I'm talking about, because I know that I can get rather confusing when I talk this fast. It really is simple though. The story isn't as complicated as people make it out to be, as he now makes it out to be. That's become his signature mark now, asking everyone he meets if they'd like to know how he got them…those scars on his face.

But only I know.

I used to work in a McDonald's because of my distinct lack in experience and high school education. (I was a drop out and not a proud one either.) I was working for my GED on the side, but I was also juggling three jobs to help pay for things, so my school work was falling a bit behind. In other words, I'd quit going to class in favor of working and keeping my head above the water.

It was for this reason that I had to take the late night shift on week nights and Saturday nights, the one time that they brought in the weird trainees that no one wanted to train any other time of the day...or night for that matter. Not that I could blame them, anyone who came in at night here in the Narrows was weird as it was. You had to have someone akin to working with their own kind…that's how I got here. That's how he got here too.

It just so happened that they shoved this new man my way.

No, I'm not really picky or overly friendly with anyone, nor am I vocal, but the assistant manager just didn't seem to like me. I'm not sure what I did to her, but I'm pretty sure that she absolutely, positively, despised me. Must be my increasing lack of social charms that she didn't like me, or maybe it was my shock of red hair that stuck out wildly from my head that drew the attention of the good looking cook in the back, I'm not really sure, but she _hated_ me! But she gave me even dirtier looks when the manager gave me him to train…

His name was Jack Napier.

He had the weirdest smile I'd ever seen.

And an even weirder sense of humor.

It was wide at the sides, but nothing was wrong with it, per say. His lips were normal looking, just like the rest of him. They were delicate on his facial features, but not overly feminine like some men's lips were. They actually look really good on him, just like the rest of his features. His skin was smooth and tan, his forehead broad but lined in beautiful, curly, dirty, sandy blonde hair. It curled loosely about his ears and side of his face so that it moved happily when he smiled or laughed…and laugh he did. He was actually sort of good looking in the face, tall, a bit thin and lanky, but charming in his own way.

He also had this fantastic and smooth voice, even through the accent. Whatever he wanted, he seemed to get, and the manager decided immediately that he was weird and deserved his scrutiny. I could tell by the way Derek first looked at him that things weren't going to go well for him, this man, Jack Napier. So he got stuck in the back with me, chopping potatoes, lettuce, and tomatoes for the burgers and sandwiches, and away from the general public. I wasn't sure what it was about him, but he made my skin crawl slightly at first. But soon that even disappeared.

I was assigned the job of teaching him how to do things back here.

Just my luck.

"The lettuce is here, and the tools that you'll be using are to be kept here in this bucket when you're not using them." I instructed, pointing in the direction of the water filled bucket. "And when you're not chopping, that's where they _have_ to go: otherwise you'll get into trouble."

"And why would I, uh, get into trouble here Raggedy?" he snickered, playing a joke on my red hair. "We work in the back. Is it really that big of a deal?"

"Well, hopefully you won't always work here in the back. It isn't all that nice back here, but at least you don't have to deal with all the costumer's and their idiotic problems." I said, grinning at my own personal joke. "It's nice and quiet…and yes, you will get into trouble. Derek doesn't seem to like you as it is."

"Oh really now? I guess I'll just have to prove my, uh, worth huh?"

He laughed, I giggled a bit too even, and that was the beginning of my friendship with Jack Napier.

I normally don't really like to socialize with anyone where I work, it makes it hard on me when they or I get fired, but I couldn't help but be drawn to Jack like a moth to the flame. Something about him, about his smile, his humor, his tremulous grip on sanity, made work enjoyable for the first time in my entire life. I began to look forwards to it, and open up to the only person I could really call my friend. The first person in a long time.

A few weeks had gone by since I'd met the man: we'd worked hard together, telling each other jokes and goofing off while at work in general. Work was actually starting to become enjoyable for me, and we'd started talking about each of ourselves more and more. I found him opening up to me, confiding in me like he'd never had anyone to do so before. I felt trusted and useful…so I returned the respect.

I opened up to him.

I'd found out in the first few days that he was fresh out of college, graduating with a dual major in political science and psychology, but couldn't find a job in his field here in Gotham. As a result, he couldn't afford a decent place to live, so he'd searched here in the Narrows for a cheap and accessible place to live. When he'd found one he went out searching for work…he couldn't find anything.

So he'd been forced to seek employment here in the fast food instead, and after two weeks finally landing a job at this McDonalds. He also wasn't originally from Gotham, but he'd come here to go to school because they given him a full ride scholarship. He actually came from Chicago, Illinois, and that's where his accent came from. It only came on some words, like you, and at the end of words that he drew out funny, but it was understandable. I really didn't mind, it was sort of exotic. All I had was my dismal inner city accent…

I listened to his every word, hanging on everything and everything he said. Something about his voice was just…magical, enchanting even. I wanted nothing more than to quit permanently and sit at his feet to forever listen to his voice. I even told him so once. He thought it was hysterical and laughed himself near a shade of blue. I had turned beet red and immediately shut up.

"You're alright Raggedy, you're all right." He said, slapping my shoulder in good humor as he laughed. I smiled as he did so, catching the eye of our disgruntled manager as he watched us out of the kitchen area from his spot near the cook and grill. "I'm glad I got to work with yah!"

I liked the nickname he gave me.

Raggedy, like as in Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy…

He then proceeded to tell me about his father, who had been a brutal and violent drunk, and his mother. Apparently his father carved his mother up in front of him, permanently scarring his brain. I can only imagine what that would be like…and I told him as such. I didn't try to sugar coat it or pretend like I knew, because I didn't, and I think Jack was grateful for that. We worked happily in silence for the rest of our shift and ended up leaving to walk home together. He lived a few blocks over from me apparently.

In another week and a half, Jack knew everything there was to know about me.

I told him all about my living situation, all about my family life, and all about the creepy fascination the night manager had with me and the hatred he had for him since he was always making me laugh. There were no secrets between friends supposedly, and I stuck to it. I told him how much I liked to laugh, and how much I enjoyed being with him at work with him, that it made my life enjoyable again. And, in my life, I needed that. He said he liked working here to and that he was glad to have met me. We weren't in love, and we weren't even in lust or anything romantic, but we did enjoy one another's company. It was like we'd found kindred souls to cling to in the turbulent waters of life in the Narrows.

And that was all that mattered.

We worked together like this for almost four months, constantly being reminded by Derek, the night manager, to "Keep Smiling! The customer's always like to see a smile!" and "Pick up the pace, Napier, we don't want you getting fired for incompetence, do we?" The weird thing was, none of the patrons could see us back here, but we grumbled and smiled anyways, doing what he said. If we didn't we were finished, and neither of us could afford that. So we rolled out eyes and joked with one another silently, always coming up with some joke or another at Derek's expense.

And then one night all our long hours of work vanished.

It was Derek who told us that we'd be staying until it was replaced.

"Man, Derek is a creeper." I said hastily once he'd left one night. "I think it was him who got rid of all the fries we sliced up so that we had to do more work. At least you found these two potato peels for us to use."

"Yah, agreed! If not we'd be here all night!" he said, his giggled ringing in my ears. He never failed to make me laugh, even in this piss poor situation.

"We still might…"

"Nah, don't worry bought it Raggedy." He said, slicing up a few more potatoes, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail underneath his work hat. It was greasy, just like my own hair. That's how everyone's hair ended up after working a night in McDonald's. "We'll get it done, don't worry!"

"I hope your right Jack…" I said sadly, starring down at the piles on our work bench. "I hope so…"

We worked well past closing time: the manager, myself, and Jack the only three people left in the hole in the wall shop. We knew very well that we weren't getting paid for the overtime, so we were practically half-assing as much as we could to get out of there as quick as we could. It was working for me, but not for Jack. No matter how well he cut the potatoes, Derek would still hound him relentlessly, demanding him to smile and do it over again. It was frustrating.

"How can you work at McDonald's if you don't smile, Napier?" he would sneer, speaking into his face. If there was one thing about Derek, it was that his breath was absolutely terrible. I should know, he was always cornering me in the side and by the cooler. "I want to see that smile of yours! After all, you always show Edwards here it, why not me?. "

Jack just smiled wider and kept on slicing, secretly taking potatoes from my pile and putting them into his so that I could leave faster. Derek didn't seem to notice, but I certainly did. I tried to ask him silently what was happening, why he was taking my potatoes, but the only answer I got was a large smile and a silent giggle. I miss that smile, even now… It isn't the same one on the TV now, the one covered in scarlet lipstick. I miss his real smile now, the real Jack Napier, but I don't miss McDonalds.

Jack finally snapped under the pressure at two in the morning on Sunday, April the 13th.

It happened after Derek had taken about half of the pile of potatoes and shoved them onto the nasty, dirty floor, smiling wickedly as they hit the disgusting floor beneath us, getting covered in dirt. I saw it coming in his shifting green eyes; I saw the twinkle of humor being snuffed out by the oppressive hand of organize management. I saw his terrible past come back to haunt him as he was once again reminded that he couldn't help his situation any.

I saw the last strands of Jack Napier's precious sanity snap as he picked up the potato peeler.

He brandished it like a knife.

And became the man known as the Joker in front of me.

He was no longer the Jack Napier that I once knew now.

He was the Joker.

The clown from Hell…

The Clown Prince of Crime.

He carved up his own face into a smile, his jagged mouth sliced up almost to his cheekbones. I've never seen anything quite like it before, and nothing since. Apparently neither had Derek, because he froze and starred wide eyed at the man as he did it to himself without a second thought about it. When he was finished with each cheek, he turned on Derek with the bloodied weapon. It didn't take long to carve the man's throat out, cackling and repeating "Am I smiling enough for yah, uh, now Derek? Am I smiling enough for McDonald's now?" as he did so. I watched the whole thing…Jack never once looked at me.

He never looked back…

I vaguely remember hitting the floor beneath me, the sound of blood rushing into my ears. The darkness took me as I listened to the sound of Jack's terrible laughter. It will probably forever haunt me for the rest of my life, and the fact that I saw it on the news almost a year later didn't help much. Needless to say, after I woke up on the floor the next day to the sounds of screams and police sirens, covered in Derek's cold and congealed blood, I immediately quit the Fast Food Franchise and took my last paycheck, as well as Jack's, home with me. No one would touch it anyways, and no one really wanted to go looking for the McDonald's employee who went nuts one night after hours…

Not even me.

Jack, wherever you are, I miss you.

Raggedy Ann needs a laugh.

And not from The Joker.

* * *

**Let me explain this. I had a dream that the Joker worked with me at McDonald's, before he got his scars, before he was absolutely nutters, and before he went out in search of his Batsy. Most of this is based on my dream, but parts of it were cut out/changed for the serious tone I wanted to set for it. The dream was crack, in reality is shouldn't have been. Hope you all like it! (And I know you don't have to peel potatoes and slice them at McDonalds, I worked there for God's sake. But, for the sake of this story, let's pretend that you do.) **


End file.
